


Christmas cardigan

by katiebuttercup



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 22:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11610018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebuttercup/pseuds/katiebuttercup
Summary: Another ChristmasAnother chance





	Christmas cardigan

"Oh!"

Molly stops at her work bench, transfixed by the lovely yellow present sitting innocently on her notebook. 

Hesitantly she picks up the tag, in lovely looping cursive it reads:

"Merry Christmas Molly Hooper" below in less flamboyant style was "from 211B Baker Street"

"Oh John that's ever so kind," Molly mutters, it must have been wrapped by Mary. It was so nice of them to think of her. 

Molly gently cuts into the paper, intent on saving as much of the paper as possible to put in her memory box. The actual present was quite big, the box was lovely in and of itself, smooth white with gold lettering that was found in the more expensive shops in London. 

Inside the box is a light pink cardigan wrapped in tissue paper. It lays nestled in its little bed waiting patiently for her to unwrap it. 

Molly picks it up by the shoulders, the texture of the material was gorgeous, smooth and delicate. It would feel lovely on. 

On closer inspection Molly can see delicate little bows printed all over it. It's such a cute touch--a quirky twist that speaks straight to Molly's heart. She doubts she could have afforded this had she seen it in the store. 

It's the nicest thing Molly has touched in--well ever. 

Reluctantly she drapes the cardigan over her arm, searching for a note. The tissue paper rustles as she digs but there was nothing else in the box. 

Molly frowns, it was unlikely John and Mary would send her such a nice gift without any note especially since they were saving to get married..

"It's not from John,"

Molly's heart leaps into her throat, she grips the table, trying to relegate her breathing. A moment later Sherlock materialises from the shadows.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Molly demands, her fingers tingle with adrenaline. 

"You can't just jump out at people in the morgue! Oh god I've dropped it!" Molly falls to her knees quickly dusting off the cardigan, inspecting it fearfully for blemishes. It's clean. She sighs in relief, holding it to her chest, momentarily forgetting that she wasn't alone. 

"What do you mean it's not from John and Mary?" Molly demands once her brain is functioning. 

"Its a gift from someone who knows you-knows your love for cardigans--a personal gift from someone who sees you," Sherlock pauses deliberately, "a present fueled by sentiment"

There is something lodged in Molly's throat, it burns like shrapnel. Tears prick at the edges of her eyes, she clutches at the cardigan, holding it against her chest as Sherlock moves closer. Molly's mind flashes back to last Christmas-that awful Christmas. 

He's going to kiss her again, a chaste peck on the cheek and Molly instinctively moves, showing him the smooth apple of her cheek, but Sherlock cups her face and he's kissing her, really kissing her, her hands clasped together with the cardigan locked between her fingers in a vice like grip trapped between their bodies. 

Sherlock pulls away and Molly's breath comes in shallow gaps as he gently runs his thumbs over her cheekbones. Everything is so quiet except for the harshness of their breathing. She should say something, she should demand answers but her mind hums blank.

"Merry Christmas Molly," Sherlock says, "I hope this makes up for last year"

Last year. Right. Molly's heart sinks, Sherlock was acting on guilt rather then, well Molly shies away from the obvious answer. And while Sherlock feeling guilty over his actions is a step in the right direction it's not what Molly wants. 

She looks down at the cardigan, no matter what Sherlock's motivations were it was truly a lovely gesture. And he was right, even Meena wouldn't have thought to give her such a thoughtful gift. Something so personal to her.

"Thank you Sherlock, truly, it's beautiful,"

Molly says.

"You like it?" There's something akin to uncertainty in Sherlock's voice but Molly convinces herself she had imagined it.

Molly fingers the material, she loves it, it feels like a piece of her already. 

"It's perfect Sherlock," Molly assures him. Sherlock looks pleased at the affirmation he's still too close and Molly takes a step away. 

"You don't look happy," Sherlock says, there is a frown marring his handsome features, catching onto her underlying sadness. She wishes he was still blind to people's feelings as he professed to be.

"No! No I love it," Molly hurries to say, she doesn't want Sherlock to think her ungrateful. Doesn't want to ruin this moment with her stupid feelings.

Hurriedly Molly shrugs out of her lab coat, eager to feel the cardigan on her skin. It slips over her like silk, it feels so good that Molly lets out a sigh of pure pleasure. Normally she didn't care about clothes but this, well she thought she could understand how Cinderella felt before going to the ball in this cardigan 

She felt beautiful. 

"Oh it's perfect!" She doesn't care if Sherlock reverts to type. He could say anything to her now and it would roll off her like water. 

"Yes it is isn't it?" Sherlock says gruffly there seems to be something lodged in his throat as well. He's looking at her like he's figured out a nine case. 

"This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," Molly confides to happy to pretend indifference, still caught up in the giddiness of the unexpected gift. 

"I didn't get you anything," Molly says suddenly guilt stricken, "I-I meant to but I got busy and--"

"Come to Baker Street," Sherlock says, "after your shift," 

"I won't have time to get you anything, everything's closed...."

Sherlock tilts her chin up, his fingers cupping her face tenderly. 

She wishes her body didn't respond so instinctively to his touch.

"Just come after work. Please." He kisses her gently, reverently. He doesn't sound like Sherlock. 

Molly can only nod as he turns and walks away, she wraps her arms around her even though she's not cold. 

She runs her fingers over the material, it feels like silk. It feels like Sherlock's kiss.


End file.
